Книга - Labyrinth

Labyrinth
Alex Archer


A book dealer lies imprisoned in a Boston mansion, an IV tube dripping a lethal narcotic cocktail into his veins. In thirty-six hours, he'll be dead. His final request is to receive a visit from one woman….It wasn't the most hospitable invitation she'd ever received. Archaeologist Annja Creed is being rushed to Massachussetts, abducted by a famous environmental terrorist–a zealot willing to kill anyone who gets in his or the planet's way. He has taken the book dealer hostage in order to steal a rare and very valuable treatise called the Tome of Prossos. Annja is the key to retrieving the ancient manuscript hidden somewhere deep within the mansion. But the book is well-protected. In order to find it, she must survive the rigors of an elaborate maze. She has only twelve hours to decipher the labyrinth's sinister secret…a secret that could ensure she never emerges.







Each step, each test, each twist and turn leads closer to death

A book dealer lies imprisoned in a Boston mansion, an IV tube dripping a lethal narcotic cocktail into his veins. In thirty-six hours, he’ll be dead. His final request is to receive a visit from one woman....

It wasn’t the most hospitable invitation she’d ever received. Archaeologist Annja Creed is being rushed to Massachussetts, abducted by a famous environmental terrorist—a zealot willing to kill anyone who gets in his or the planet’s way. He has taken the book dealer hostage in order to steal a rare and very valuable treatise called the Tome of Prossos. Annja is the key to retrieving the ancient manuscript hidden somewhere deep within the mansion. But the book is well-protected. In order to find it, she must survive the rigors of an elaborate maze. She has only twelve hours to decipher the labyrinth’s sinister secret…a secret that could ensure she never emerges.


“There’s no exit.”

In answer, Kessel’s eyes blazed. He was perfectly able to communicate his understanding, even without the benefit of having a tongue.

Annja studied the only thing in the room: a table with a book on it. “Somewhere here there’s got to be a clue how we’re supposed to get out of this place. I mean, we could take the crawl space and go backward through the maze—”

She heard a rumble and a cloud of dust poured into the room. The crawl space had caved in. Annja sighed. “All right, the only way out of here is to figure out a way forward.”

There seemed nothing special about the table. And as far as she could tell, the book was a hardcover edition of the King James Bible. Overhead, a single light burned in the ceiling. It didn’t appear as if some type of guillotine would drop on them if she picked the book up.

Before Annja could stop him, Kessel flipped open the cover. Nothing happened. But there was nothing written on the pages, either.

Annja tried to pick the book up, but it didn’t budge. Flipping through it where it was, she found a small button at the back. Annja glanced at Kessel. “What do you think?”

He shook his head.

But Annja’s finger was poised over it. “What have we got to lose?”

She pressed the button.

The lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. Annja heard a sudden movement and a grunt.

“Kessel?”

And then there was nothing but silence.


Labyrinth

Rogue Angel

Alex Archer






















www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


The Legend

...The English commander took Joan’s sword and raised it high.

The broadsword, plain and unadorned, gleamed in the firelight. He put the tip against the ground and his foot at the center of the blade. The broadsword shattered, fragments falling into the mud. The crowd surged forward, peasant and soldier, and snatched the shards from the trampled mud. The commander tossed the hilt deep into the crowd. Smoke almost obscured Joan, but she continued praying till the end, until finally the flames climbed her body and she sagged against the restraints.

Joan of Arc died that fateful day in France, but her legend and sword are reborn....


Contents

Chapter 1 (#u347e63ce-3a22-5d66-affe-6d7a0a65a0bb)

Chapter 2 (#u47e4b7b8-c08b-5f23-92f0-1c38ccf8b225)

Chapter 3 (#u5fa342d0-b3a5-5619-a206-facb7b9513da)

Chapter 4 (#u0bafe093-970d-5e21-87a9-edf37467c1f9)

Chapter 5 (#uc4aa48a5-3a0f-5765-881a-79d6ab1ed407)

Chapter 6 (#u89ba4f5f-9bc8-5aa9-88ec-f5b4f742c835)

Chapter 7 (#u1f217383-cbbb-5eeb-a234-5558e1b633e1)

Chapter 8 (#u7f16a293-b736-539e-bd96-5cee01503fbb)

Chapter 9 (#uf64b9b32-2f8d-55f3-bf75-3a0ea05594cc)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1

There’s something about the fall, Annja Creed thought as she sat on the stoop of her building, watching leaves skitter across the pavement of the basketball courts on the other side of the street. A brilliant crystal-blue sky illuminated the day, and she breathed in the crisp air, filling her lungs and letting go a sigh. It felt good to be back home after months on the go.

I don’t do this nearly enough, she thought. Chasing relics across the globe, fighting off the rogues and ne’er-do-wells that seemed to be reaching epidemic proportions… She nodded to herself after a sip of her mocha latte.

I need more downtime.

And that was the truth. As a breeze slinked its way under the T-shirt she wore with her jeans, Annja recognized that she actually hadn’t stopped in a very long time.

The sword that only she could use—that of Joan of Arc—had opened her life to so much, she barely had time to appreciate any of it. The bad, the good and the bizarre.

But at the moment, all she wanted to do was watch the rest of the world go by, sip her latte and give thanks for such a gorgeous autumn day.

Maybe I’ll take a nap later. She smiled. A week’s vacation and absolutely nothing scheduled.

There was that new exhibit at the MOMA she could take in. And after that, maybe some well-deserved bookstore browsing in the Village.

“Annja Creed?”

She frowned and turned to study the man who’d addressed her. He was well built, in his mid-thirties and had about two days’ worth of growth on his face. But he didn’t look all that bad, she decided.

“Yes.”

He smiled. “I was wondering if we could talk for a moment?”

Annja’s frown deepened. Despite his disarming manner, she sensed something dark in him. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

He sat on the step below hers. He was careful, making sure she noticed that he was giving her the strategic advantage of the higher ground on the stoop. But why?

She took another sip of her mocha latte, but it didn’t give her the same sense of soothing calm it had before.

“Damn.”

He looked at her. “Something wrong?”

“I think it’s entirely possible you just ruined my latte.”

He raised a shoulder. “I apologize for intruding. It did indeed look as though you were having a moment.”

“A moment?”

“Relaxing in this lovely weather.”

It wasn’t quite cool enough for a jacket, yet the man seated below her wore a navy windbreaker. There was something about him that seemed familiar. Not the man himself, but rather his manner.

Military?

Government spook?

Or just one of the countless enemies she’d come across during her travels?

“So, what can I do for you, Mr….?”

He held out his hand. “Jackson. Mike Jackson.”

“Mr. Jackson.” Annja nodded. “Okay. So what’s up? And how did you know where to find me?”

The smile he flashed told her that he knew plenty about her already. “It wasn’t that difficult. I don’t really think anyone’s privacy is assured these days. Do you?”

“I do my damnedest to try,” Annja said. “But apparently I’m not having all that much luck.”

“If it’s any consolation, you were tougher to run down than some of the other people I’ve been tasked with finding.”

“And why would you be tasked with finding me, Jackson?”

“My client wishes to speak with you.”

“Client.”

He nodded, glancing around the neighborhood.

“Skip tracer?”

“I’m not a private investigator, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Annja considered the latte again, giving it one final chance to woo her back. Forget it. “You’re an information broker. Hired to get what clients need.”

“That’s more accurate.”

“And who wanted you to find me?”

Jackson glanced at her. “The same people who would now like to have a word with you.”

“They can make an appointment if it’s that important. I’m on vacation, Jackson. If they want a meeting next week, then I’ll be happy to talk to them. Until then, I’m not doing anything unless I distinctly feel like it.”

Jackson took a deep breath through his nose. “Yeah, see, that’s going to be sort of a problem.”

“Not my problem,” Annja said. “I don’t need to see anyone.”

“The truth of the matter is, they don’t have all that much time to wait for you, Miss Creed. They’re in something of a hurry.”

“Look, Jackson—Mike, right?—I don’t go a long way on passive-aggressive behavior. And I don’t like being bullied, either.”

Jackson seemed momentarily taken aback, but then cracked a grin. “If you don’t agree to come with me, the people I work for are going to kill someone.”

“Who?”

“Reginald Fairclough.”

Annja shrugged. “Don’t know him.”

“But he apparently knows you. He’s made his cooperation with my clients conditional on meeting with you.”

“And where is he? In Manhattan?”

“Western Massachusetts.”

Annja looked closely at Jackson. “Did you just hear me say not a minute ago that I am on vacation?”

“I did hear that, yes.”

Annja stood. “I think this meeting is now at an end, Mr. Jackson. When I come back down, I don’t want to see you on my stoop or I’m going to get angry.” She leaned over him. “I’m not sure how much you know about me, but you don’t want to see me get angry.”

Jackson stared at her. Annja finally turned and walked inside, taking the stairs up to her loft. She dumped the remains of the latte in the sink and let the faucet run for a few seconds to wash it down the drain.

Western Massachusetts. She shook her head. Like that was going to happen anytime soon.

“Miss Creed.”

Annja turned. Jackson stood in her living room, with two other men behind him. If Jackson had a slight military bearing, Annja’s instincts told her these two were total danger.

“I thought I told you I don’t like being bullied.”

Jackson nodded over his shoulder. “I apologize, but my clients are quite insistent.”

One of the men stepped out from behind Jackson. “My name is Scott Greene. Have you ever heard of me?”

There was something familiar about that name. Annja racked her memory and then the face clicked. Greene was an environmentalist. But on the lunatic fringe.

Wonderful, she thought. What did he want with her?

“You’re a militant environmentalist,” Annja said. “You here to police my apartment and tell me how I’m destroying the planet?”

Greene sniffed. “I could spend hours yelling at you for using those crummy old-fashioned lightbulbs instead of CFLs.”

Annja nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t had much time lately to reduce my carbon footprint. Speaking of which, if you don’t leave my place immediately, I’m giving serious thought to reducing yours—to nothing.”

Greene didn’t move. “Hear me out.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Greene. This is me giving you one last chance to get the hell out of my place.”

Greene looked at the third, yet unnamed man and nodded. The guy took out a silenced pistol and leveled it on Jackson’s right temple. As Jackson’s mouth dropped open, Greene said to Annja, “Cooperate, or I can have my associate blow a nice hole in the side of the good Mr. Jackson there.”

Annja shrugged. “He works for you. I just met him. I don’t care if you kill him or not.”

Jackson’s eyes bulged but he didn’t move a muscle.

Greene smirked. “Ah, nice try, Annja. But we’ve done some research on you. And I know for a fact that seeing an innocent man killed—in your apartment, no less—would drive you insane.”

Annja’s heartbeat raced. She could draw the sword and be done with these three idiots before they could even react. She wondered how the cops would view it. Could she argue home invasion? That she’d felt threatened? They did have a silenced pistol, after all. And there were three of them.

But what if they didn’t believe her?

Annja leaned against the sink. “Jackson already told me something about a Reginald Fairclough. I don’t know the name.”

“He’s an antique book dealer. Quite a famous one,” Greene said. “His collection of works is without peer.”

“So, what’s he want with me?”

Greene shook his head. “Old Reggie has something I want—quite badly—and in order to retrieve it, I must first get you to his house. He wants to talk with you.”

“About what?”

Greene looked pained. “I don’t know.”

Annja shrugged. “Listen, I can’t help you. I’m dead tired. You tell Reggie to call me. That’s about the best I’m going to be able to do for you.”

“That’s not good enough, Annja.”

Before Annja could react, she heard the small pop, and Jackson crumpled to the floor beside her love seat.

Greene hadn’t even hesitated. And Jackson was dead.

Annja watched a thin trail of smoke issue from the end of the suppressor on the pistol Greene had whipped out from his holster, beating his colleague to the punch.

“I think it was a good idea that you see how very serious I am about this, Annja. I don’t like being told I can’t do something.”

“Apparently,” she said.

“You’ll come with us now,” Greene said. “Otherwise I’ll have my associate here shoot you.”

“And how would that help you with Fairclough?”

Greene smirked. “I’d find another way. I always do.”

And somehow Annja didn’t doubt that.


Chapter 2

The body of Jackson sprawled on her floor made Annja acutely aware of her predicament. Greene didn’t need to shoot Annja, despite his threat to do just that. He’d already placed Annja in one hell of a pickle. How was she going to explain the corpse in her home?

The pair could leave her right now and all she’d be able to tell the police was that Greene had been here. But would they believe it?

Greene gave her a moment and then cleared his throat. “I take it you’ve run through all the alternatives before you?”

Annja glanced at him. “You didn’t give me very many to choose from.”

“Why would I? I need you, Annja.” Greene scratched his goatee. “The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

Annja shook her head. “We can’t just leave Jackson. Eventually, he’ll start to decompose and the smell will bring the cops.”

Greene shrugged. “Don’t worry so much, Annja. I’ve got that handled. I’m not a complete monster.”

“I think I’ll wait before I make up my own mind on that one,” Annja said.

Greene’s associate stepped up and produced what looked like a large garbage bag. He unrolled it and spread it around Jackson’s body. Annja looked up at Greene.

“You knew this was going to happen.”

Greene shrugged. “I believe in planning ahead. I wasn’t sure how receptive you’d be to my request. Jackson was pretty much obsolete as soon as he agreed to track you down for us.”

The other man rolled Jackson into the bag and then zipped it up.

“I’m amazed you’re using a plastic bag for that. Doesn’t that go against everything you stand for?”

“It’s recycled plastic,” Greene said. “And besides, it contains the effluence better than cloth.”

Annja cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve done this before, I take it.”

He laughed. “Many times. Where other environmentalists like to preach wholesome universe nonsense, I prefer to act. I’m not about to sit idly by and watch the planet ravaged by politicians and their corporate masters. Not a chance. I’ll remove whatever threats are dangerous to Mother Earth.”

“Results oriented,” Annja said.

“Results, yes. I firebombed a cosmetics factory that had been testing its products on animals and flushing toxic waste into the drinking supply of a small village in Cambodia. And when that building was reduced to ashes, I went after—and got—the people who owned it.”

“How?” Annja asked, buying time as she tried to think how to extricate herself from this situation.

“I made them drink the poison sludge they’d been spewing for decades into the drinking water. Unfortunately for them, the concentration was so much higher than the water normally held. I guess they came to see that the stuff they used to make cosmetics with wasn’t healthy.”

“And what happened to the people who were employed by the factory? How are they supposed to make a living now?”

Greene shrugged. “They’ll find a way. Their welfare isn’t my concern. If anything, they ought to be thankful to me for cleaning up their water. But they were secondary. The primary goal was to stop the factory from polluting the environment.”

“So you’re not a humanitarian at all.”

Green laughed. “I make no pretense of being a humanitarian, Annja. My goals are simple—wipe the toxicity of the human stain from the planet. Help rebuild the wonder that once was nature.”

Annja frowned as the other man finished hefting Jackson’s body over his shoulder. “What now? Is he just going to walk out of here with the corpse?”

Greene smiled. “You really think anyone is going to ask him questions?”

Greene’s associate must have stood more than six feet two inches and weighed about two hundred and sixty pounds. He was big and muscular. Annja didn’t think any of her neighbors would bother him.

“No,” she said simply.

Greene nodded. “Exactly. Now let’s get going downstairs.” He stopped. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer I let my associate leave the body here and then we call the police?”

Annja sighed. She could argue her way out of the murder; she felt confident of that. Plus, she knew a few of the cops at the local precinct. She’d be able to straighten it out, but was it worth the grief?

I need to install some serious surveillance on this place, she thought. Video cameras would forestall this type of bull.

“Annja?”

She stared at the floor. A tiny residue of blood remained on the hardwood. Greene followed her gaze and chuckled.

“We’ll leave that here as a souvenir.”

“Be hard to clean once I get back,” Annja said. “I’d prefer to clean it up now, if you don’t mind.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Greene said. He studied her for a moment before relenting. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get it done.”

Annja ran for the kitchen and grabbed a sheaf of paper towels, holding them under hot water. Through the window, she saw a cruiser parked on the curb across the street. If she could just get the two cops’ attention…

“Annja.”

She turned and saw Greene standing at the entry to the kitchen. Annja lifted the wet paper towels. “Got them.”

She went back to the living room and knelt, mopping up the blood. Fortunately for her decor, the bullet had stayed inside Jackson’s skull. A larger caliber bullet would have exited the skull and strewn brain matter.

Annja spent a few more seconds scrubbing the spot. While it looked clean, she knew that if a crime scene tech ran a UV light over it, there would be blood traces. She’d need to clean it better when she got back.

She stood. “Let me just throw these away and we can go.”

Back in the kitchen, she ditched the ball of towels in the trash. A glance out of the window confirmed the cruiser was still there. Could she get their attention?

The window.

Annja looked over her shoulder and into the living room. Greene had his back to her and was talking to the other guy.

Now.

Annja pushed the window open, hopped up onto the counter and crept out onto the fire escape. Her loft was five stories up. She kicked at the fire escape. Speed was more important now than stealth.

A bullet splanged off the metal handrail in front of her.

“Annja!”

So much for surprise.

She kicked the fire escape down on the second attempt and dropped two stories before she even knew what she was doing.

Footfalls on the fire escape above her confirmed that Greene was in hot pursuit. Or his associate was.

Annja took the steep steps three at a time. She kicked at the release on the next level, watching the steel ratchet toward the street.

Another bullet hit the walkway ahead of her. They were still using a silenced pistol.

Annja’s breathing was coming hard.

She was close to the ground now.

And the cruiser was still there, idling.

“Hey!” Annja waved her arms and then felt something hot bite into the side of her arm. She glanced down and saw blood.

She’d been shot?

Instantly, she felt woozy. She started to turn and was overwhelmed by dizziness.

Annja went over the railing of the fire escape.

And landed on the garbage cans below with a crash.

Dazed, she sat up and put a hand to her head. More blood.

Not good.

She stood and tried to claw her way out of the pile of trash. That’s when she heard the sirens. And saw the cruiser’s lights go on.

“Hey, you okay?”

Miraculously, one of the cops was heading toward her. He rushed to grab her as she fell. “Miss!”

He helped her down to the sidewalk.

Annja struggled to take a breath. “Men—armed. My…apartment.”

Concern creased the face of the police officer. He started to reach for his radio as his partner approached them.

“She okay?”

“I don’t know,” the first officer said. He pushed a button on his radio and started to speak.

“Oh, my God, Annja!”

Annja could barely move her head. She recognized the onset of shock.

And then Greene’s face swam into view overhead. “Thank God she’s okay!”

The first cop looked at Greene. “You know her?”

Greene sighed. “She’s my sister. She’s been taking medication for depression and I was over to discuss some family issues. She got upset. I was in the bathroom, but when I came back out, she was gone. I thought she’d jumped.”

“Damn near did,” the second cop said. “She took a header off the fire escape. She’s lucky to be alive.”

Greene feigned a sigh. “Thank God you were here.”

The first cop stood. “She’s going to need a doctor. And we’ll have to get some information from you.”

Greene nodded. “Sure, sure. Whatever you guys need.”

And then Annja saw Greene bring up his pistol almost in slow motion, extend his arm and shoot both police officers dead. The sound suppressor muffled the gunshots and, since they were in the alley behind Annja’s apartment, no one even noticed the two cops go down.

Greene stepped over each of them and calmly shot them again in the head.

He looked back at Annja. “Just to be sure. These guys have a bad habit of wearing body armor these days. It’s not as easy to kill them anymore.”

Annja tried to talk but nothing came out of her mouth. Greene squatted next to her. “That’s the drug we tagged you with. It’s nice, isn’t it? It’s an ancient pharmacological specimen from the Amazon. Does the trick nicely and you don’t have to listen to a twenty-minute lecture on side effects like you do with the shit the big pharma guys hawk on the evening news.” He smiled. “You ought to thank me for not just killing you and being done with it.”

Annja grabbed his arm and glared at him as best she could. But its effect only amused Greene. “I admire your spirit, Annja. I really do. I have to admit, I don’t know all that much about you—but I intend to rectify that situation immediately.”

He got his arms under her and Annja felt herself lifted to her feet. Greene’s breathing seemed light and easy and she could feel the strength in his arms and core as he hauled her upright.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard an engine and guessed that Greene’s associate had gone for some vehicle. Sure enough, seconds later, a dark van rounded the corner and drew to a stop next to them.

She heard the side panel door slide back on its rails. “All right, Annja, in we go.”

Annja felt herself heaved into the back and then the door slid shut and darkness closed over her.

She took a deep breath. The pile of blankets beneath her felt soft. Warm.

Almost comfortable.

Western Massachusetts, she thought.

Well, maybe a little trip wouldn’t be so bad.

Provided she didn’t end up like the recently deceased Mike Jackson.


Chapter 3

Annja tried to blink and realized something had been tied around her head, over her eyes. A blindfold. Had she passed out during the trip? She felt strangely rested, but she could also tell there were some lingering effects from the drug Greene had shot her with.

Her legs ached and Annja tried to stretch them out. She kicked something solid.

“So, you’re awake.”

Annja propped herself into a sitting position. “Can I take this off?”

“Your hands aren’t tied. You can do whatever you like.”

“In that case, I want to go home,” Annja said. But she reached up and pulled the blindfold off. The interior of the van was still dark. Judging from the hum of the engine, Annja figured they must have been cruising along at about seventy miles per hour. Fast enough to get to their western Massachusetts destination within a few hours, but slow enough not to provoke any police they’d be passing on the highway.

Smart.

In the darkness, she saw a match flare followed by the red glow of what had to be a cigarette. Greene’s face was briefly illuminated before it went dark again. He was sitting in the backseat with her.

Annja stared. “You smoke cigarettes?” Somehow that seemed directly contradictory to Greene’s avowed mission of saving the planet.

Greene inhaled deeply. “This is not a cigarette.”

And a second later, Annja caught a whiff of the smoke. Marijuana. “You smoke pot?”

“Yes. Is that a problem for you?”

Annja coughed. “Aside from suffocating on your passive smoke, no. I’m curious how you justify it, though.”

Greene shrugged. “What’s to justify? It’s not like I’m buying into the massive health conspiracy that was covered up by the tobacco companies.”

“Yeah, but you’re still smoking.”

Greene laughed. “I don’t think your argument is going to prove convincing, Annja. I’ve been smoking pot for a number of years now. And I quite happen to appreciate the efficacy of the cannabis herb. It’s wonderful stuff.”

“I just wouldn’t have expected that sort of thing from you. I mean, I imagine you’re pretty healthy—what, a vegan?”

Greene shook his head. “Vegetarian, yes. Not vegan. That’s too strict for me.”

“And fit, too. You work out a lot. Someone trained you somewhere at some point in the past.”

“Yes.”

“And yet you put that carcinogenic substance in your lungs. I don’t get it.”

Greene leaned over and blew a puff of smoke into Annja’s face. “Yes, well, perhaps you don’t deserve to get it. Ever think of that, Annja? Or are you so presumptuous to believe that you have a lock on the workings of the universe?”

Annja waved the smoke away. “I’m not presumptuous.”

Greene leaned back. “That remains to be seen.”

Annja looked at the front windshield. The wipers flicked intermittently, scattering the small accumulation of drizzle. “Where are we headed?”

“Springer Falls. Have you ever heard of it?”

“No. I don’t get up here all that much.”

Greene nodded. “I’ve had a chance to read up on some of your exploits. You’ve been all over the world recently.”

Annja sighed. “It feels like I’ve been away forever.”

“But never to Springer Falls. Maybe this trip will be a departure—a chance for you to enjoy yourself,” Greene said. “And maybe afterward we could find a way to work together, you and I.”

Annja smirked. “I’ve seen how you work, Greene. You drop people without even thinking about it. Why in the world would I work with you? I’d never feel easy with you around.”

Greene inhaled and let out another stream of marijuana smoke. “I’m decisive. Ask any successful person and they’ll say attitude is absolutely necessary for achieving your goals.”

“By decisive, they were probably talking about something a little less extreme than, say, murdering people.”

“You interpret it your way,” Greene said. “But I happen to believe I have a better handle on it than you.”

Annja waved her hand again to dispel more of the smoke. “I hope we don’t get stopped.”

Greene hefted his pistol. “I hope so, too. For the trooper’s sake.”

Annja shook her head. “You planning on leaving a trail of bodies in your wake, Greene? Sooner or later they’ll track you down and give you the death penalty for your crimes.”

Greene sniffed. “If I was scared of dying, I wouldn’t be the man I am today.”

“A murderous, pot-smoking lunatic?” Annja sighed. “Some man. What sort of greatness have you achieved?”

“Greatness is measured in many ways. My exploits may not make sense in your limited world view, but some day, my supposed crimes will be seen for what they truly are—revolutionary.”

“Ecoterrorism,” said Annja. “You can phrase it however you’d like. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a killer.”

“Potato, potahto. Your judgment doesn’t concern me in the slightest.”

“Apparently.”

Greene inhaled again. “Do you know what it’s like to watch the planet being ravaged and destroyed right in front of your eyes?”

“I’ve been around the world,” Annja said. “I’ve seen abject poverty, environmental disasters. And, usually, they’re caused by people like you who con themselves into believing their cause is just. Except justice is a facade. You’re all after power or money. Greed drives you and others like you. You can try to spin it, but it doesn’t change that you’re out for yourself.”

Greene slapped her so suddenly that the shock of it sent Annja reeling. She tasted blood in her mouth and took a breath.

“You don’t know me, Annja Creed. And you have no right to criticize the work I’ve done.”

Annja wiped her mouth. “You were the one who kidnapped me, Greene. I don’t want to be here. But you gave me no choice. So, as far as I’m concerned, I have every right to comment on your petty little world vision. Don’t like it? Then you can drop me off here.”

“Or I could just kill you.”

“Nah, you need me. Reginald’s waiting, remember?”

“I told you I could find another way if it became necessary.”

Annja smirked. “Yeah, you said that. But I don’t believe you. If there was another way, then you probably wouldn’t have driven to Brooklyn to kidnap me. But the fact you drove down to New York tells me you’ve run out of options.”

Greene sat smoking quietly for a few moments. “All right, I’ll be honest. I do need you. But would you prefer to do this in relatively decent health or in a world of pain?”

“You’re into torture, too? Well, there’s another character trait to be proud of.” Annja shook her head. “You’re just full of greatness, aren’t you?”

Grudgingly, Greene laughed. “Compliments will only get you so far, Annja.”

She could, of course, use the sword to kill Greene and his associate behind the wheel. But what would that achieve, except her freedom? Annja would never find out what Reginald Fairclough wanted with her. Or how he even knew her.

She racked her brain but the name still didn’t ring any bells. Of course, it was a little tough thinking when she was feeling the secondhand effects of Greene’s marijuana.

Her head swam, but Annja blinked the dizziness away. “Tell me more about the book dealer.”

Greene eyed her. “We have a detente?”

“We don’t have anything, Greene. You’ve got a captive—for the moment—and my piqued curiosity. I don’t think I know Fairclough, yet he wants to see me. That intrigues me.”

“Lucky me,” Greene said. “I’ve piqued your curiosity.” He chuckled quietly and then coughed. “Fairclough is one of the most renowned experts in early history texts. I don’t suppose you know much about that, do you?”

Annja shrugged. “You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure.”

“Fairclough apparently thinks I’ve got some value.”

Greene mercifully stubbed out his cigarette and regarded Annja. “He’s bordering on insane.”

“Well, good, then you two will have a lot to talk about.”

“He’s also dying right now. As we speak.”

“From what?”

Greene smiled. “I’ve got him hooked up to a slow IV drip. It’s currently leaking a motley assortment of narcotics into his bloodstream. I’d give him about thirty-six hours before he’s dead.”

Annja looked at Greene. “Why in the world are you killing him?”

“He’s got something I want. I thought I told you that earlier.”

“You mentioned that. But you didn’t tell me what it was you’re after.”

“I want a certain book in his collection. It’s very old. Ancient, in fact. Fairclough acquired it a few years ago. It’s his most prized possession.”

“Well, I don’t blame him for not wanting to give it to you. A manmade book? You’d probably just burn it.”

“I will do no such thing,” Greene protested. “In fact, I want to study it and learn what it has to teach.”

“What’s so special about this book?”

“It’s an ancient account of the history of the world. The tome used to be in the library at Alexandria. Of course, the history ends with the destruction of the library.”

Annja narrowed her eyes. “I thought the texts in the library were incinerated during the fire.”

“They were.”

“But not all of them.”

“Not all of them,” Greene agreed. “And Fairclough got his hands on this text. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“Maybe.”

“The Tome of Prossos, the ascetic.”

“What do you hope to learn from it?”

Greene shrugged. “It might tell me a lot about how the world used to be before we all got into the business of destroying our home.”

Annja waited for him to continue. When he didn’t she prodded, “Is that it?”

“Does there need to be more?”

“I guess not,” Annja said. “But I don’t think you’re being honest with me. Whatever. I’ll talk to Fairclough. But don’t think for a moment that I’ll help you get it back from him.”

“You might change your mind once you meet him. He can be quite persuasive.”

“Does he kill people to get his point across?”

“Not that I know of.”

Annja nodded. “Well, there’s a big point in his favor already.”

Greene leaned back and looked through the windshield. Annja felt the change in the engine’s thrum. They were slowing down. Greene’s associate took an exit off the highway, and she watched as they drew into what looked like a small town.

“We’re almost there,” Greene announced.

“Good,” said Annja. “I’m dying to get out of this van. It reeks in here.”

Greene eyed her. “I’d be very careful of judging what you don’t fully comprehend, Annja.”

“I don’t know how much is left to comprehend,” she said. “You want a book that Fairclough owns, and he doesn’t want to give it to you. I don’t blame him. And for some reason, he wants to talk to me. So fine, I’ll talk to him.”

Greene watched her for a moment and then looked down at his gun. “We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Fairclough lives on the outskirts of town in a rather large estate.”

“Is he retired or actively still in the business?”

Greene shrugged. “The internet allows him to work from the comfort of his home.”

“Technology’s not all bad.”

“That remains to be seen. Maybe when this…meeting…is over you’ll understand that.”

“Or maybe not,” Annja said.

Green hefted the pistol. “Maybe not. Indeed.”

Annja leaned back and waited for them to arrive at Fairclough’s mansion. She had her own ideas on how to resolve this situation.


Chapter 4

Fifteen minutes later, the van rolled to a stop before turning left down a long winding gravel road—to Fairclough’s estate, presumably. Annja tried her best to pick out details as the van rolled in, but the cloudy evening sky cast long shadows across much of the landscape. Still, Annja could see sprawling lawns, well manicured, and shrubs perfectly coifed, creating the idea of an English country estate. As they drew around the corner hedged in by a massive rhododendron, Annja could see Fairclough’s house for the first time.

Floodlights aimed at an angle to the brick and stone exterior displayed the full magnificence of the mansion. Light poured out of the massive windows and ivy crawled over one entire side wall.

“Impressive,” Annja said.

Greene sniffed. “It’s horrendous. A grotesque stain upon what would otherwise be a beautiful landscape.”

“You’d deny him his right to own a home like this? It’s not like he got his money from poisoning kids or burning down forests.”

Greene shrugged. “Money is greed. Its only real value is in bringing our planet back closer to the purity of its origins. Does it look as if Fairclough cares about anything but his own personal pleasure?”

Annja shook her head. “His bank account is his own business. As far as I’m concerned, Fairclough got his money doing something good—promoting the value of books. I think a lot more people could use a reminder of how great books are. No one reads much these days unless it’s an easy-to-digest sound bite. Just take a look at the last election cycle.”

Greene cocked his head to study her. “I don’t vote.”

“Then you’ve got no right to complain.”

He laughed. “You’re pitifully naive, Annja. You think your vote matters?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a right and a responsibility, so I take it seriously. Not that I’m around much during elections.”

“You’re allowed to vote only because the corporations—those with the real power in the world—let you. This is how they manipulate you into thinking you have some measure of power, when you don’t. None whatsoever.”

“What paranoia.”

Greene raised his eyebrows. “Think about it—what happens if one party gets too much power? Next election, the other party gains more power to balance it out. In recent years extremism has become mainstream with the advent of the Tea Party. I mean, really, look at that swath of candidates who came to power last year. Idiots, racists and people who wanted to destroy the Constitution they claimed they would die to protect. And you all fell for it. Pathetic.”

“So, what would you do—kill them?”

Greene shrugged. “Well, it’s not a perfect solution. But for the time being, it works pretty well.”

“Can I get out of this van now and get some fresh air?”

Greene nodded.

Annja grabbed the side panel door release and jerked it back on the rails. As it slid open, a rush of fresh air greeted her and she breathed it in deeply. It felt good to flush her lungs.

The air outside was heavy with moisture and she could see droplets of water on the grass. She stepped out and felt the gravel beneath her shoes.

Greene emerged behind her and she heard the driver’s door close with a slam. She glanced and saw Greene’s associate come around the hood of the van.

Greene waved him over. “Annja, you haven’t been properly introduced to Kessel yet.”

Kessel stood in front of Annja and folded his arms. He said nothing.

Annja looked him up and down. “Does that pose go over well with the ladies?”

Kessel said nothing. Annja glanced at Greene. “Real conversationalist you got yourself here.”

“His tongue was cut out during the first Gulf War by the Iraqis when he was captured and tortured for information.”

“Why would they cut his tongue out if they wanted him to spill?”

“Kessel told them from the start that he wouldn’t divulge any information that would compromise his unit. They didn’t like that response. So, instead of trying to break him, they simply sliced his tongue off like some piece of meat and fed it to a dog.”

Annja shook her head. “Horrible.”

“Effective,” Greene said. “But it did have an effect on Kessel that led him eventually to me. He came to see that all the wars being fought were simply proxy battles engaged in by corporate masters. That soldiers like him were being manipulated as expendable pawns. He grew to despise the vast industrialism rampant in the world today.”

“You really think that?”

Greene nodded. “Yes. I do.”

Kessel nodded, as well. “All right,” Annja said, “let’s go see Fairclough and get this over with.”

Greene stopped her. “Annja, I don’t want you thinking this is going to be a quick job. If Fairclough is as I expect him to be, you may find yourself in for quite a challenge.”

Annja frowned. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

They walked up the footpath to the main house. As they approached, the door swung open and another gun-toting associate of Greene’s waved them inside. “Welcome back,” the man said.

Greene nodded at Annja. “This is Creed, the one Fairclough wants to see.”

“Good stuff.” He beamed at Annja while pushing his dreadlocks back with his free hand. “I’m Jonas. Nice to meet you.”

Annja smirked. “Another true believer?”

Jonas smiled at Greene. “She didn’t swallow the Kool-Aid, huh?”

“Hardly,” said Greene. “I think we’d best treat Miss Creed as a hostile witness, if it pleases the court.”

Jonas bowed low. “Well, there will be time enough for us to bring her around to our cause.”

Annja shook her head. “You’re wasting your time, Jonas. I don’t go in for extremism. You guys might have some good ideas about cutting back on pollution and making sure corporations are responsible for taking care of the environments they operate in, but there’s no way I can condone how you carry out your goals. Murder doesn’t wash with me.”

“Then you’ve obviously never been presented with some of the greedheads that we’ve met,” Jonas said. “When you can’t even get them to try to see your perspective, what choice is left?”

“I might hate them,” Annja said. “And I could understand the frustration you feel, but I wouldn’t resort to murder.”

Jonas laughed. “Murder can never be justified—is that so? Well, we’ll see how you feel about that later. Right now, I’m sure our leader wants to get back to see his patient.”

“Indeed I do,” Greene said. “Let’s go.”

Jonas led them down a carpeted hallway lined with huge mahogany doors and beautiful landscape paintings. Annja pointed at one as they passed. “Seems like Fairclough has an appreciation for nature, as well.”

“Paintings hardly express a passion for saving the world.” Greene sneered. “Investments that will eventually yield him even more money and power. There’s little to celebrate in such a collection.”

Annja rolled her eyes. “Good God, man, do you ever take a break from the self-righteousness?”

“The environment is my religion,” Greene said. “And I take umbrage at your insulting tone.”

“Yeah, well, I call it like I see it,” Annja muttered.

Jonas paused at a set of double doors. “This is Fairclough’s bedroom,” he said to Annja. “We’ve had him cooped up in here since we arrived.”

“And when was that?”

“Two days ago.”

“Did you explain what it was you’re looking for?” she asked Greene. “After all, if you asked nicely enough, he might give it to you.”

Greene shook his head. “We asked him. Begged him, in fact, to release it to us. We told him we could keep it even safer than he could. But he refused to listen to us. Said something about us not understanding its nature and how we’d destroy it. Imagine the arrogance of the man.”

Annja sniffed. “Yeah, I guess I can certainly relate to that.” She eyed Greene. “So that’s when you hooked him up to your poison drip?”

“Well, we needed to convince him,” Jonas said. “No sense only taking a threat so far. You need to show people you mean business, after all.”

Greene smiled. “Jonas is our medical professional. He did three years on an extended tour with a small missionary outfit down the Amazon. What he saw there propelled him to the realization that modern society is corrupt. That the only true way forward is to go backward.”

“Back to what our ancestors practiced,” Jonas added. “Their knowledge of nature and the universe was without peer. And yet we’ve gotten away from that with our machines and our supermarkets and shopping malls. The whole thing is so ludicrous, it amazes me that more people don’t see it.”

“Yeah,” said Annja, “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t all flock to the notion that killing people and engaging in terrorism is a viable means of helping the planet. Crazy.”

Jonas frowned. “Your sarcasm is a real downer, Annja. I hope that before this is over you at least try to keep an open mind.”

“I always have an open mind,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I let my brain and common sense fall out.”

Greene chuckled. “Good one.”

Jonas nodded. “I like her.”

“Look,” she said, “enough with the brainwashing, okay? Let’s see Fairclough and be done with this. My head still hurts from force-smoking your blunt in the van.”

“Fair enough,” Greene said, nodding to Jonas. “Let’s get inside.”

Jonas pushed the doors open and they filed in. As Annja stepped into the bedroom, she was amazed at the opulence. She’d never known the antique book market to pay so handsomely. But Fairclough had either invested wisely over his career or he had money coming in from other sources.

Fairclough’s bed was a towering four-poster surrounded by several modern paintings that looked familiar, as if she’d seen them in exhibitions.

She saw the array of medical equipment next. Machines buzzed and beeped and hummed while digital readouts kept chirping out updates and monitoring the health of the man they were hooked up to: Reginald Fairclough.

For his part, Fairclough looked tiny in such a huge bed. His frame was thin and wiry and his face appeared gaunt. A mop of white hair topped his head, which seemed almost unnaturally large for his body.

Annja saw the IV drip stand next to the bed and watched as the clear liquid in the plastic squeeze bags dripped down the tube and into the old man’s arm. God knows what they’re pumping into his bloodstream, she thought. No matter who he was, Fairclough didn’t deserve to be treated this way.

No one did.

“What are you poisoning him with?”

“I told you,” Greene said. “It’s a little concoction we came up with based on Jonas’s experience in the rain forest. It’s quite a compelling cocktail of native herbals.”

“And the great thing is,” said Jonas, “if he helps us, we can reverse the effects almost immediately.”

“You can?”

“Well.” Jonas hesitated. “If he tells us soon. Otherwise, it will get progressively worse until it’s irreversible.”

“What happens then?”

“He’ll lapse into a vegetative state.”

“And then he’ll die,” Greene said. “So I suggest we get started.”


Chapter 5

Reginald Fairclough, Annja decided, looked exactly the way she thought an antique bookseller ought to look. With his oversize head and white hair, he had the appearance of being highly intelligent. His thin frame indicated that he probably spent a lot more time thinking than engaging in physical activity.

“Is he in a coma?”

“I think he’s asleep,” Jonas said. “Let me see if I can do something to bring him around.”

Annja watched as Jonas leaned in and adjusted one of the taps on the IV bag. The drip slowed and then Jonas tapped Fairclough on the shoulder. “Wake up, old man. Got someone here to see you.”

“Quite the wake-up call,” said Annja with a frown. “Your bedside manner is horrible.”

“I didn’t hire him for his bedside manner,” Greene snapped. “His skill with toxins is incredible.”

“Should I call him Dr. Poison?”

“Jonas is fine,” Jonas said. He tapped Fairclough again. “Can you hear me?”

Fairclough shifted under the blankets and his eyelids fluttered slightly. A croak escaped his mouth.

“Does the poison make him sick?” Annja asked.

“It’s actually a stronger version of what I shot you with,” Greene explained. “It’s a bit like being very drunk without the nausea and vomiting.”

Jonas blanched. “I’m not good with vomit.”

Annja cocked an eyebrow. “You’re a medical doctor and you can’t stand the sight of vomit?”

“Never could,” said Jonas. “And anything to do with urine or feces is out, too. Just freaks me out, man.”

Annja filed that nugget away. Knowing that Jonas had weaknesses could come in handy. In the meantime, she looked at Fairclough as he started moving. His eyes rolled open and he squinted in the bright light.

Greene nudged the bed. “Come on, Reggie. Wakey-wakey. You see who we went and found for you?”

Annja leaned closer. “Mr. Fairclough? I’m Annja Creed.”

Fairclough’s eyes rolled to Annja and he seemed to focus on her for a moment. Annja watched a glint appear in his eyes. He seemed to recognize her. But for the life of her, Annja couldn’t figure out where she might have known him from.

“Annja Creed.” Fairclough’s voice rasped as if he hadn’t had a drink in days.

Annja looked at Greene. “Can you at least get him some water?”

“Sure, we’re not complete savages here.” He nodded to Jonas, who reached for a glass of what appeared to be water on the bedside table. He put the straw up to Fairclough’s lips.

Annja watched as Fairclough drank and then sputtered some of it back out with a sharp cough. He looked like hell and, even if she didn’t know he was being poisoned, she would have thought he had some serious health issues.

Fairclough managed to take in some more water and then pushed Jonas away with one of his hands. There was anger in his eyes as he recognized Jonas and Greene.

But he smiled at Annja. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Annja felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t. I wish I did, but I just can’t place you. Have we met before?”

“Indeed,” Fairclough said. He looked at Jonas. “Help me sit up, you ignorant errand boy.”

Jonas glanced at Greene, who nodded. Jonas helped Fairclough into a better position, at which point Fairclough backhanded Jonas across the mouth. It was a sudden flash of Fairclough’s character, and it caught both Jonas and Greene completely by surprise.

Jonas reeled away, clutching his face. Annja saw a line of blood start to trickle down and grinned. “Looks like he hasn’t quite been neutralized just yet, huh?”

Jonas looked at Greene. “That bastard hit me!”

Fairclough looked quite pleased with himself, but Annja saw that the exertion had cost him a lot of his strength. She might not have remembered him, but she admired his resolve.

Greene nodded at the door to Jonas. “Go get that cleaned up.”

“You want me to leave you here alone?”

“Kessel’s out front. And I don’t think Annja’s going to try anything right now. She’s too interested in what our host has to say.”

Jonas left and Greene added, “I should remind you that if you try anything, it won’t go down well for you.”

“No need to repeat yourself,” Annja said. “I’m well aware of what you’re capable of. After all, I’ve already seen you kill three innocent people today. I’d say that qualifies you for scumbag of the month.”

Greene smiled. “Talk to him. Convince him to give me the book and you might just go home alive.”

Fat chance of that, Annja thought. There was no way in hell Greene would let her walk out of here. But she put that concern out of her mind for the time being. She’d deal with that eventuality when she had to. Worrying about it now was a waste of time and energy.

Fairclough reached out for her hand and she let him take it. “Come closer, Annja.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the IV dip. She wondered what would happen if she ripped the thing out. Would it somehow injure Fairclough more? Would it kill him?

She couldn’t risk doing anything just yet. “I’m here,” she said.

“A few years ago at a history conference on the Egyptian influence on world history, you gave a talk on the Late Period’s Thirtieth Dynasty that was truly compelling.”

Annja squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Egypt is one of my passions, you see. And it was thrilling to hear such a talk coming from someone like you. I mean, I’ve seen that dreadful TV show—”

Annja held up her free hand. “I’m nothing like the other host, I assure you.”

“And I realized that, after you gave your presentation. I actually tried to say thanks, but you were whisked away immediately after your talk. I thought you might have had a family emergency or something so I didn’t pursue you.”

“No family emergency,” Annja said. “Just another relic that someone wanted me to chase down for them.”

“And now you’re here.”

“Because you sent them to bring me here.”

The old man bit his lip and looked away from her. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have put you in danger.” He began to cough weakly, and Annja brought the glass with the straw back to his mouth. He drank, but didn’t say anything more.

Annja looked around, giving him time to compose himself. “You have a lovely home.”

“I wish you were seeing it under better circumstances. Unfortunately, one never knows what sort of riffraff will drop by unexpectedly.”

She smiled. “I had that same thing riffraff drop by on me earlier today. Rather rude of them.”

“Indeed,” Fairclough said. “But we are where we are and must endeavor to make the best of a bad situation. These lads want something of mine very badly, as I understand it.”

“A book. Greene said it was called the Tome of Prossos?”

Fairclough nodded and another short cough escaped him. “An early record of human history up until the great conflagration at Alexandria.”

“How is it that you have a copy? It was my understanding that all the books in the library were incinerated beyond retrieval.”

“They were,” he confirmed. “But there was also a movement afoot to make copies of all the texts in the library in case the unfortunate happened. Foresight that proved to be too late to save most of the texts. However, the Tome of Prossos was already copied.”

“And you have this copy?”

Fairclough inclined his head. “I have the only copy in existence. And I hope to have it in my possession awhile longer, mind you.”

Greene chuckled. “You don’t know what to do with it. The knowledge in that book shouldn’t belong to only one man. You’ve got to let the world have it. It belongs to the planet.”

Fairclough looked at him. “You’re a hypocrite on top of everything else. As if my releasing it would signal the great reformation you so fervently wish. You’d hoard the book yourself, using what its pages speak of to further your own ends.”

“My own ends are to benefit the planet,” Greene said.

“Are they?”

“Of course.”

“Then why don’t I simply release the book to the public over the internet? Would you have a problem with that?”

Greene shifted. “Well, yes, I would. But not because I wouldn’t have control of the book, but because its power would be usurped by corporations and other greedheads.”

Fairclough waved him away. “Bah! You don’t know half of what the book contains.”

“Well, neither do I,” Annja said. “Is this why you asked to see me? Because of the book? If that’s the case, would you mind filling me in on the details?”

Fairclough smiled at her. “It’s quite simple. As you know, the tome contains a written account of the history of the world, from its creation—according to Prossos—to mankind’s ascent through the Egyptian dynastic ages. It’s a marvelous read, provided you understand it.”

He glanced at Greene. “And let me just say for the record—you will not understand it.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Greene replied.

Fairclough looked back at Annja. “The real treat about the tome is that it also contains within its pages a codex that reveals a method for healing the planet in times of duress.”

“Meaning what, exactly? You can cure the planet?”

Fairclough’s smile grew. “Imagine knowing how to reduce the toxicity in the environment. That is what the book contains, and that is what I believe our good friend Greene here really wants it for. He doesn’t want to learn from the lessons of history so much as be the savior of the world.”

Greene shrugged. “Sure, I could stand with being called a savior. Who wouldn’t enjoy that?”

“You could be so much more than just a savior,” Fairclough said. “Provided you knew what to do.”

Annja cleared her throat. “How do you solve the codex?”

Fairclough shrugged. “I haven’t been able to crack that yet. It’s one reason I opted for retirement, so I could work on just that. It would have been nice to give the secret back to the world.”

Greene sighed. “All right, enough of this. Tell her where the book is so we can get it and leave this place. It makes me sick just thinking how much money it must’ve taken to buy this joint.”

Fairclough gripped Annja’s hand tighter. “You know as well as I do that he’ll never let either one of us out of here alive.”

“I was thinking about that.”

Greene frowned.

“Having seen what I saw today,” Annja continued, “I don’t doubt you’d kill us as soon as you could.”

Greene did his best to hide a smirk. But he failed and looked away. Annja frowned. She looked back at Fairclough. “I think we can take that as an indicator of what we’re in for.”

Fairclough nodded. “Exactly. So you can see that I really have no reason to reveal the book’s hiding place.”

“I’m still not sure why you asked to see me, but—” Annja lowered her voice “—I might be able to do something about this situation. However, I’d need to get to the book first if we have any hope of nullifying the poison in your veins.”

Fairclough looked at her hard. “Are you sure?”

Annja nodded. “Yes.”

“It won’t be easy. I took steps to protect the book and make sure it wouldn’t ever be stolen from me.”

“A security system?”

“Something like that,” Fairclough said. “I’d rather hoped never to have to use it, but when they broke into my house the other day, I had no choice. I was barely able to get it protected before they took me hostage.”

“All right,” said Annja. “So how do I disarm it?”

Fairclough waggled his eyebrows. “It’s not really something you can decode. You have to find your way through the maze.”

“Maze?”

“Yes,” he said. “The book is hidden at the center of a maze I designed under my estate.”


Chapter 6

Greene started laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Fairclough looked at him and sighed. “I’d expect nothing less from someone like you. It always amazes me how little those who claim to stand for ideals actually think.”

“You’re telling me there’s a maze underneath this house?” Greene shook his head. “How in the world did you manage to construct that?”

“I hired people to excavate the area and build it to my precise specifications.”

“But what’s the point?” Annja asked. “I mean, no offense, but if you wanted some elaborate security system, there are plenty to choose from. You could hire someone to design you a completely unique system.”

“I’ll tell you why,” Greene said. “Because he’s gotten too much into the pages of some of his books apparently.”

Fairclough regarded him. “I had the maze built because I didn’t trust the security systems everyone else uses. Electronics can be defeated. Ciphers and codes don’t matter a whit to me. But genuine ingenuity is a prize I value above all else. Needless to say, most of the ruffians who would steal the book don’t possess even a fraction of it.”

Greene started forward. “Keep the insults up, old man, and I’ll—”

“Kill me?” Fairclough laughed. “Seems to me you’re already doing that, you ignorant pup. Now be quiet while I talk to this wonderful woman here.”

Greene looked as if he might be tempted to hit Fairclough.

Annja held up her hand. “All right, so what’s the deal with the maze? Do I just go down there and find my way to the center of it to retrieve the book?”

“That would be too easy,” Fairclough said. “I had to make it difficult to discover and even tougher to get through.”

“So, what happens when I get in there?”

Fairclough looked pained and glanced at the IV drip as if aware his time was very possibly fleeting. “There are puzzles you’ll need to figure out.”

“Puzzles?”

“Challenges,” Fairclough clarified. “Think of them that way. They’re tests, of course, and unfortunately the penalties for failing them are rather…absolute.”

“Absolute? What does that mean? Deadly?”

Fairclough nodded. A wave of pain washed over his face. “I’m sorry for putting you through this, Annja. You don’t deserve it.

“I had wanted to warn you that the copy of this book exists—because of your understanding of Egyptian history—but I never expected…”

“I won’t argue that point,” Annja said. “Can’t you just shut the thing down?” she asked.

“No.” Fairclough’s voice sounded weaker. “For reasons that will become obvious once you enter the maze.”

Annja looked skeptical. “You’re not giving me much to go on here.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“How do I get into the maze?”

Fairclough coughed. “There is an entrance in the barn behind the third horse stall. I don’t have horses any longer, but I’ve kept the barn there. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding your way in.”

“All right.” Annja sighed. “But listen, couldn’t you just give me the answers to the challenges?”

But Fairclough’s eyes rolled back in his head. Greene felt his neck for a pulse. “He’s passed out. Probably from the pain.”

“Can’t you reduce it?” She chafed the old man’s hand.

Greene shrugged. “Well, yeah, I could. But why would I?”

“So I can get more answers out of him. So I can have a better shot at finding your precious book.”

Greene smiled. “He told you what you needed to know.”

“Hardly. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this thing. ‘Reasons that will become obvious once you’re in the maze’? I mean, what’s that about?”

Greene shook his head. “I don’t know and I don’t really care. But you’d better get going.”

Jonas came back into the room. He glanced at Fairclough. “He pass out from the pain again?”

“Seems to have,” Greene said. “You know the old coot has himself a maze underneath this place?”

Jonas stepped back. “For real? That’s pretty wild.”

“You two should come with me,” she said. “That way, when the maze kills you, I’ll only have to deal with Kessel when I come back up with the book.”

Jonas laughed. “Man, you’re funny, Annja. I like the way you unload those barbed comments like that. It’s kinda hot.”

“You’re a buffoon.” She looked at Greene. “Let me guess—you’re going to stay up here while I do all the work, right?”

“Well, I need to be here and so does Jonas so he can monitor our patient.” He smirked. “However, since you seem to have developed a liking for Kessel, you’ll be glad to know he’s going with you.”

Annja’s brows furrowed. “He’ll get in my way.”

“I doubt it. I think you might find him useful.”

“How so?”

“I suppose it depends on what sort of challenges Fairclough has put into the maze, but Kessel is incredibly strong and adept at killing things. If you come across guard dogs for example, he can dispatch them quickly.”

“You know this for a fact?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve come across attack dogs, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Fine,” Annja said. “The sooner I get down there, the better. I want to go home and forget this day ever happened.”

Greene smiled. “And I want that book. You’d do well to remember that when you start thinking about getting the better of Kessel. I’ve already instructed him to simply kill you if you give him reason to suspect anything is amiss, and try to get the book himself.”

“He wouldn’t find it without me.”

Greene shrugged. “I wouldn’t be so cavalier. Kessel is remarkably intelligent. Just because he doesn’t have a tongue doesn’t mean he can’t read. And he reads a lot. Last year he read several hundred books on a wide range of topics.”

“So, what you’re saying is he’s not just a mean-looking killer. There’s a real intellect behind all that brawn.”

“Exactly.”

Annja smirked. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if you’re right.”

“Yes, we will.”

Annja studied Fairclough in the bed. He hadn’t shown signs of coming back around. Jonas followed her gaze and sighed.

“The pain takes him after a while. One of the symptoms of this particular toxin. He’ll be out for a good long time.”

Greene smiled. “Unless, of course, we increase the dosage of the poison into his bloodstream.”

“Why would you do that?” Annja asked.

“Because you’re not moving fast enough,” he said. “You’re on the clock here, Annja.”

Jonas checked his watch. “As I said, I can monitor the flow of toxin into his body. But after a certain time, we won’t be able to undo the damage.”

Green glanced at Jonas. “How much longer does our antiquated bookseller have to live?”

Jonas looked at his watch. “I’d estimate no more than twelve hours. That’s the maximum time I can reverse the damage.”

“What’s happening to him now?” Annja asked.

“His neurological system is being ravaged but the effects at this point are temporary. An increase in the dosage will accelerate the damage and make it irreversible.”

“And if you stop the flow into him?”

Jonas smiled. “It’s not that easy, Annja. It’s not as though you can simply rip the IV out and expect a full recovery.”

Damn, Annja thought.

“He needs to receive the counterdrug to this one to make a full recovery.”

“You have it?”

“Of course we have it.” Greene nodded to Jonas. “Show her.”

Jonas brought out a small black doctor’s bag and unzipped it. Reaching in, he pulled out a different IV bag. “This is the drip that will reverse the effects of the drug on Fairclough.” He eyed Annja. “You don’t know how to administer an IV, do you?”

“I can’t stand needles.”

“Ah, good,” Jonas said. “Then you will obviously need to keep me around after you get the book.”

Annja smiled at Greene. “How about that? Your doctor just sold you out.”

“He did no such thing.”

“Sure sounded like it.” Annja glanced around. “Where’s the automaton you call Kessel?”

“Waiting outside the door,” Greene said, “although if I were you, I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss him that way. He’s very touchy about his condition.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Are we done here?”

Greene nodded. “Twelve hours. You have a watch?”

“Must have forgotten it back when you kidnapped me.”

Greene unstrapped his and tossed it to Annja. She turned it over and looked at it closely. “A fake Rolex?”

“What about it? Keeps good time.”

Annja held it up. “Another hypocrisy. You like the way it looks.”

“I like the way it keeps time.”

“I’ll bet you have a few real ones back home in your underwear drawer.”

Jonas shook his head. “We both got one when we were in Hong Kong to protest the environmental impact of recycled computer parts. There’s nothing special about them, but they do keep decent time.” He rolled up his sleeve and Annja saw he wore one, as well.

Annja checked Greene’s watch and made a note of the time. “Fine, but when I come back, you’d better have that bag rigged and ready to go.”

“We will.”

Annja fixed them both with a long, hard glare. “One more thing—this isn’t over. When I return, we’re going to have a serious discussion about your little organization and its stated goals for killing innocent people.”

Greene waved her off. “Whatever makes you feel good, Annja, that’s fine. Now run along. Kessel is waiting.”

Jonas grinned. “Have fun.”

Annja frowned and walked out of the room. Kessel stood just outside, as Greene had promised.

“You coming with me?” she asked.

Kessel nodded.

“All right, then. Let’s get to it.”


Chapter 7

Kessel led Annja back down the carpeted corridor and broke left near the entrance, taking her through a massive kitchen that could have easily handled the workload of two restaurants. Annja marveled at the shining cookware and six-burner cooktops with names she recognized from the fanciest restaurants. She whistled quietly. Fairclough certainly knew how to live.

A single heavy door led from the kitchen out to the backyard. But yard wasn’t quite the appropriate name for the sprawling lawn that greeted them. Floodlights illuminated a pair of tennis courts in the distance, an Olympic-size swimming pool and a beautiful flagstone patio area complete with its own outdoor kitchen and bar area.

Annja frowned. Fairclough didn’t seem like the type to do much entertaining and yet this home seemed custom-made for it. Then again, it would provide interesting cover for his underground maze. Perhaps he’d invested in this elaborate setup to simply help hide the book he sought to protect.

Either way, the place was luxurious and amazing. Annja found herself staring in wonder at the carefully trimmed plants and bushes they passed.

Kessel, for his part, seemed unmoved. He simply kept striding ahead toward a distant spot concealed behind a low rise in the yard. As they crested the grassy slope, Annja saw the outline of a large building and assumed this was the barn.

It looked old, in stark contrast to the rest of the estate. She could tell by the clapboard weathered to a fine slate gray that it had been built more than a hundred years ago.

Kessel stopped in front of the main door and pointed. Annja glanced at him. “You’re not going to get the door?”

He just stared at her.

Annja sighed. “Look, if you’re coming into the maze with me, we need to get some basic communication down. I take it you’re familiar with hand signals?”

Kessel didn’t respond for a moment but then finally nodded once.

“All right, then, we’ll go with those. And improvise if something comes up we can’t describe, okay?”

Kessel nodded again, this time a little faster. Annja grunted and pulled on the massive wooden door.

It creaked and then swung open. The smell of horses and hay enveloped her and she sneezed twice. So did Kessel, and it was the first time Annja heard him make any sort of noise.

“I’ll walk out of here with a massive allergy attack if I’m not careful,” Annja said. Kessel grunted behind her and she turned. “See? That’s not too much to ask, is it? We might even get along, you and I.”

Kessel raised an eyebrow.

Annja smiled. “Maybe not.”

She found a switch on the wall and threw it on. Instantly, light flooded the stalls and she saw the one marked number three. Annja pointed. “I think that’s our destination.”

She led him over to the stall and looked inside. Nothing but hay and dust. A giant spiderweb hung in the upper corner, carefully crafted by a master weaver who was apparently hiding. Annja shook her head. “Don’t care for spiders much.”

Kessel nudged her into the stall. Annja looked around. “What do you think? Trapdoor? Would it be that easy?” She knelt and hauled back a whole pile of hay. But all she saw was a dirt-covered wooden floor.

Annja stood back up. “Guess not.”

She backed out of the stall and examined the entry. But the simple latch over the gate didn’t seem out of place at all.

Kessel, for his part, stood still, studying every inch of the stall with his eyes. Annja looked at him. “See something?”

Kessel shrugged, stepped forward and touched a single nail jutting out of the closest wall. Annja heard the click and then saw a portion of wall slide back and in, revealing a black crawlspace.

“Well, look at that. Your first contribution to the cause.” She smiled at him. “It’s a shame you’re one of the bad guys. We might have gotten along well, you and I.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. I’ll take point. Don’t let me catch you staring at my ass.”

She thought she saw a glint of amusement in Kessel’s eyes. Good, she thought. If she could reach him somehow, it wasn’t out of the question to try to turn him against Greene.

Maybe.

The crawlspace was dark and dank. Annja sneezed again as she entered, aware of the moist earth smell. How had Fairclough constructed this thing without his neighbors knowing about it? Surely they would have had to haul away tons of dirt and stone to make this.

Given how utterly massive the estate was, he could pretty much be assured of privacy. Unless, of course, his neighbors could task satellites to fly overhead and spy on him.

Highly unlikely, in other words.

The crawlspace led down at a slight angle for twenty feet. Annja felt her knees bruising against the cold stones beneath them. She shifted her weight and kept moving. Behind her, Kessel made very little noise.

If he was that stealthy just crawling, then what was he like when he wanted to kill someone? She didn’t intend to find out.

The crawlspace turned at a sharp left and she saw ambient light coming from somewhere. She glanced back at Kessel. “Got light up ahead here.”

He nodded, and Annja turned back to the crawlspace. Her head kept bumping the top of it, dislodging dirt on her head. As long as it didn’t get in her eyes. She’d need a nice long hot soak when this was all over, she decided.

Annja followed the crawlspace until it opened up at last and she could stand. Kessel drew himself out of the crawlspace like some winter bear just awakened from hibernation. His massive girth filled the architecturally complete room they found themselves in as he stood and stretched his limbs.

“Glad we’re out of there,” said Annja. “Not crazy about having to find my way through dark small spaces.”

Kessel nodded.

The room was approximately eleven feet by eleven feet with a simple table in the center. In the middle of the table sat a book.

Kessel headed right for it.

Annja stopped him. “Hold it, slick.”

He paused and looked at her. “You really think that’s all there is to this?” she asked.

Kessel shrugged.

Annja shook her head. “You’re smarter than that, Kessel. And there’s no way Fairclough would put the book he’s trying to protect right here. There’s no challenge in this. And he did warn me of puzzles. I’m guessing this must be one of them.”

She looked around the room again. Something seemed odd about it and the third time she looked she finally understood. “There’s no exit.”

Kessel’s eyes blazed. And then he nodded understanding.

Annja studied the table. “So, somewhere, there’s got to be a clue how we’re supposed to free ourselves from this place. I mean, we could go back through the crawlspace—”

But at that moment, she heard a rumble and a cloud of dust poured into the room. The crawlspace had caved in.

Annja sighed. “All right, so much for that. Looks like the only way out of here is to figure out how to move ahead.”

She examined the table again. There seemed nothing special about it. It was made of wood with four simple straight legs jutting down toward the stone floor.

“Nothing there,” she muttered.

But what about the book?

Annja peered at it from all angles but could detect nothing special about it, either. As far as she could tell, it was a hardcover edition of the King James Bible. Fairclough didn’t strike her as religious, but then again, she’d only just met him. He could have been a zealot for all she knew.

But maybe he simply had an appreciation for the book and what it had done for the English language, rather than its content.

Annja glanced at Kessel. “What do you think?”

He shrugged.

Annja agreed. “Yeah, we don’t have much choice, do we?”

Kessel shook his head.

Annja looked at the book again. She could, of course, pick it up and see what happened. But was that the wisest move?

Overhead, a single lightbulb burned in the ceiling. It didn’t appear that some type of guillotine would drop on them if she picked up the book.

She pointed to Kessel. “Do me a favor—check those walls for any hidden firing ports, would you? The last thing I want is to find myself impaled by a spear or projectile I can’t see.”

Together, they ran their hands over every inch of the walls they could reach. But try as she might, Annja couldn’t find anything to suggest something lethal awaited them if they opened the book.

At last, she sighed. “All right, let’s try it.”

Kessel flipped open the cover before Annja could stop him.

“Hey…”

He stared at the book. There was nothing on the pages. Annja leafed through it but found nothing at all written in it. She glanced at the spine just to make sure she hadn’t missed something.

“Well, that’s weird.”

Kessel frowned.

Annja tried to pick the book up off the table, but it didn’t budge. “Is it stuck?”

Kessel tried, too, but it wouldn’t give. Annja nudged him out of the way and started leafing through the pages again. “There’s got to be something in here we’re missing.”

On the fourth time through, she finally found it at the back of the book. The last page covered a small button in the upper corner. Annja glanced at Kessel. “What do you think?”

Kessel shook his head.

But Annja poised her finger over it. “What have we got to lose? If we don’t press it, I don’t see anything else in here we could try. We either stay here and starve or press this and take our chances.”

Kessel nodded.

Annja pressed the button.

Several things happened in the next instant. First, the lights went out, plunging the entire room into total darkness. Annja heard sudden movement and a grunt.

“Kessel?”

And then there was nothing but silence.

“Kessel?”

No response.

Wonderful, she thought. Now she truly was alone. Villain though he might have been, Annja had felt at least some small measure of comfort knowing he was with her in the maze.

Now she was alone.

Then the floor gave way underneath her. Annja felt herself falling past the table, past the King James Bible trap that she’d triggered. She plunged down, unaware of how far she was falling until at last she fell into water. Annja dunked under and came up sputtering, gasping for air. The sudden cold shock had stunned her almost senseless.

She guessed that she’d fallen at least twenty feet but couldn’t be sure. It was still completely dark in the…pool she found herself in, adding to her insecurity about her position. After all, Fairclough had warned her that it would become obvious there were challenges within the maze itself. And Annja had the distinct impression that meant Fairclough might have stocked the maze with a few living surprises.

There might even be piranha in the water with her right now.

She wiped her eyes and tried to focus.

In any event, she was out of the room with no exit. Now she just had to figure out where she was.

And what had become of Kessel.


Chapter 8

The first thing she did was determine the size of the pool she’d dropped into. Annja swam in one direction until she bumped into stone. A wall. There, she thought, that tells me there’s at least some end to this.

She swam back the way she’d come but grew tired partway across. It wasn’t a small pool.

Annja took a deep breath and dove down, but again, she couldn’t find the bottom before her lungs threatened to burst. She surfaced and gasped for air.

Not good, she decided. Better to stay close to the stone wall she’d felt. So she paddled back over and felt the cool, slimy stones, covered in mossy algae. And Annja hadn’t detected any chlorine, so this was a natural body of water.

And that meant there might be other things living in it besides the algae.

Almost as soon as she came to that realization, Annja felt something brush against her legs. She jerked them up and away. She wasn’t in salt water, so that ruled out sharks. And while she didn’t relish the thought of facing anything in the dark, she could control her panic.

Now might be the time to see what it is I’m up against here, she thought. Annja visualized the sword waiting for her in the otherwhere. Instantly, the sword was in her hands, forcing her to tread water with her legs only. But the dull gray light the sword cast provided much-needed illumination.

Annja held the blade high overhead and attempted to see where she was. She glanced up at the ceiling and saw she’d misjudged the distance she’d fallen by perhaps a dozen feet. She could see the hole in the ceiling where she’d come plummeting through.

Any higher and I would have broken my back when I landed, she thought. Fairclough must have worked it out that way on purpose.

The stone wall at the one end gleamed in the light. Annja could see that the stones reached all the way to the ceiling, but looked impossible to climb. Then she slowly traced the wall. It went all the way around the water. She estimated that the pool was the length of a football field. Completely enclosed by the stone wall.

Again, she was in a room with no apparent exit.

She’d already tried to dive and hadn’t reached the bottom. So how deep was it? And did the exit lie somewhere beneath the surface?

One way to find out.

Annja took a deep breath and dove, holding the sword out in front of her while she kicked through the water. Just having the sword gave her a lot more strength and her system felt flush with energy. Her lungs didn’t protest so much as she swam deeper.

She could make out all sorts of plants and a sandy bottom roughly thirty feet below her.

She marveled at Fairclough’s construction of this maze. It wasn’t the type of maze she’d expected. This wasn’t a series of corridors and dead ends; it was a complex series of rooms, each with its own unique set of conditions. In order to get through this, Annja was going to need all of her wits about her.

A school of small fish swam away from the light of the sword, and Annja saw their large white eyes, more accustomed to the darkness than the light. What else lived down here?

She got her answer a second later as she spotted what looked like a bull shark. It cruised lazily some distance away from her. Annja felt her heartbeat kick up a notch as she remembered that bull sharks could live in fresh water. They’d been found up rivers hundreds of miles away from the ocean.

The shark suddenly seemed to notice her and altered its course. It wasn’t huge. But at roughly six feet long, it was still large enough to give Annja some problems.

If she’d been unarmed in the dark, it would have made short work of her.

But with the light and the sword, Annja felt ready for anything.

She hoped she wouldn’t have to kill it. It was simply doing what it was supposed to do. As an apex predator, its job was to hunt and eat. But when it swam suddenly closer with its pectoral fins jutting downward, Annja could see that its attitude had changed from mild curiosity to anger. It seemed to view Annja as an intruder.

I don’t blame it, she thought. If I ruled this place and someone threatening showed up, I’d be pretty pissed, too.

She flicked the sword blade up and aimed it at the shark’s snout. It brushed against the steel and Annja felt the blade cut into the nostrils. The shark bucked and jumped away.

Annja watched it retreat into deeper water trailing a thin line of blood in its wake. She hoped that would be the last of interest it expressed in her.

She turned her attention back to surveying the area beneath her. Unfortunately, she ran out of air, so she had to surface and take several deep breaths.

There was no doubt the sword helped her stay underwater longer. But there were limits to what it could do. And if Annja was going to figure out how to get out of here, she’d have to be sure she could reach the exit in one breath; otherwise, she’d drown.

Annja waited until her heartbeat had calmed down and then took another deep breath and dove.

She barely missed the set of teeth that flashed past her head.

The bull shark was back.

Annja kicked hard to put distance between them and then floated in the water with the sword in front of her.

The bull shark came at her hard. Annja knew this was no time for indecision. She cut fast, slashing across the water in front of her, severing part of the bull shark’s snout with a single swipe.

Blood flooded the water and the shark reeled away. Annja cut it again, a killing thrust to the underbelly.

I hope there’s only one of them, she thought. Otherwise, the mess in the water would draw others in no time.

She surfaced, took another breath and then swam deeper, beneath the blood cloud that hung suspended in the water.

The sword lit her way and Annja swam for the reeds growing down near the bottom of the pool. An underground pool stocked with a bull shark? Annja shook her head and kicked on.

The sword’s light illuminated more of the bottom. Annja spotted more fish and a few turtles. There must have been a way to keep the shark fed, aside from the fish population contained in the pool.

Would have been nice if Fairclough had given me a warning, Annja thought. I could have been killed back there. And he didn’t even know about the sword she carried. His only reason for getting her here was to warn her about the existence of that precious history book.

Annja made it to the other end of the pool and surfaced once more. With one hand on the stone wall, she held out the sword. She hadn’t seen any other sharks and she doubted there’d be more than one. It would be too difficult to keep two of them fed properly.

Still, she didn’t doubt that Fairclough could spring other surprises on her. She had to find her way out of the pool. While the sword would keep her healthy for some time, she could tell that the temperature of the water would eventually drop her core temperature and bring on hypothermia.

And that would kill her just as easily as a bull shark.

Annja waited again and then took a series of shallow breaths followed by one deep breath. Then she plunged beneath the surface again, kicking stronger than she had previously.

I’ve got to find a way out of here quickly, she thought.

She traced her way down the wall toward the bottom. A mass of boulders sat near the wall itself. Was the exit there?

Annja floated in the water and tried to reason out what Fairclough would have planned for this room. Obviously, the real challenge would have been the shark. Once that was dispatched, though, was there a secondary puzzle?

Annja swam toward the boulders. Small crabs scurried away from her as she approached. Annja thought the topmost boulder looked unusual and she pushed against it.

It moved suddenly, almost causing Annja to lose her balance. As it rolled away, it revealed a long black tunnel.

Annja frowned.

That was the last thing she wanted to see. She jabbed the sword into the opening, but the blade’s light faded about ten feet from the entrance.

Wonderful, she thought. There’s no way of telling how far it goes. She could run out of breath and find herself drowning inside.

Not exactly the way she’d envisioned herself dying.

Annja surfaced and looked around, trying to see if she’d missed anything. But as far as she could tell, there was no choice. The stone walls of the pool ran right up to the ceiling high overhead. There was no way to climb the walls. And Annja doubted the exit would have been up there. Fairclough might have been devious, but he would have also planned for someone to find a way out, provided they got past his pet shark.

No, the more Annja thought about it, the more she suspected the exit really was the tunnel beneath the surface. She’d just have to take a chance that she could swim it in one breath.

Here goes nothing, she thought. Annja took another breath and plunged straight down toward the tunnel, pulling herself through it as she kicked harder than she thought possible.

The darkness seemed to stretch before her, yawning like some great black maw. Annja drove the sword out ahead of her, willing it to carry her forward, to lend her its strength.

Her legs ached from kicking. And she kept bumping her head against the tunnel itself, which was only about six feet in diameter.

I’ve got to keep going, she thought. Come on, Annja, keep swimming!

Annja didn’t dare stop and look back. She had a gut feeling that she’d already passed the point of no return.

Her lungs started to crave oxygen more than they ever had before.

Keep going.

Annja closed her eyes and imagined the sword in her mind’s eye. A new wave of strength surged through her body and it felt as if her muscles had more oxygen now. Annja’s lungs still hurt from holding her breath, but she kept her eyes shut and kept plowing forward.

Just a little bit more.

The tunnel couldn’t go on forever. At some point, Fairclough would have to end it and bring the person into another room so the fun could continue.

Right?

She prayed she was right.

Her legs ached now and Annja knew that this was the final energy she could pull from the sword. Eventually, it would need to be put back into the otherwhere. Annja didn’t think it had an inexhaustible supply of energy to give her.

Nothing did.

I’m almost there, Annja told herself. A few seconds more.

And then she had the sensation of light ahead. Annja opened her eyes and saw that the tunnel had already started to open up. She could see the lighter water in front of her. The tunnel must have opened into a different room.

She kicked with every last ounce of strength she possessed and was rewarded by finally clearing the tunnel.

Air.

Annja shot for the surface.

Broke it.

And sucked deep lungfuls of air.

Finally.

Water dripped off her and her entire body felt cold. She needed to get out of the water and find a way to warm herself. Otherwise, she was done for.

She turned in the water and saw a sandy beach ahead.

Annja swam for the shore.

Grateful to be through the tunnel.

And still alive.


Chapter 9

Annja waded out of the water and fell face-first into the sugar-soft sand. Her teeth chattered and her entire body felt chilled to the core. Annja briefly managed to put the sword back and then exhaustion washed over her. She closed her eyes and just wanted to fall asleep.

But she knew she couldn’t. The watch on her wrist already showed her that one hour had passed since Greene had delivered his ultimatum to find the book or Fairclough would die.

Annja groaned and hauled herself into a sitting position. The sand was mercifully warm and her clothes already seemed to be drying, as if they’d been exposed to a fire. Annja lay back down on the sand and let the warmth, which seemed to be radiating up from under it, bleed into her and restore her core temperature.

Fairclough had planned for this, she guessed. After that swim, people would need to be able to warm themselves. Somewhere beneath her, there was no doubt an industrial heater.

Annja frowned. The heater probably wasn’t left on twenty-four hours a day… Had it been activated when she reached the sand? In that case, there would have to be sensors embedded somewhere in the walls that would track her progress. Either that or cameras, with people watching her. If she could figure out a way to get to some sort of control room, there might be a way to bypass the maze itself and head right to the book.

Of course, in order to do that, Annja would need a more intimate knowledge of the maze. And that was something she didn’t have.

She sighed and sat back up.

Kessel was still nowhere to be seen. Annja wondered if he’d fallen into some other pool somewhere else in the maze and if he’d had his own run-in with a shark.

Maybe he hadn’t made it.

Annja smiled. She doubted it. Kessel was very strong…and smarter than she’d first thought. Maybe she could find an unexpected ally in the man—if she could find him again. He’d already shown a willingness to communicate with her. And Greene had sent him into the maze with Annja without consulting with the guy first. That had to have shown Kessel he was expendable.

“I’d be furious if Greene did that to me.” Annja glanced around, suddenly sheepish that she’d spoken to herself.

A couple close calls and she was already cracking up.

She hauled herself to her feet and stomped around, feeling her muscles come back to life. A few deep breaths, knee bends and waving her arms around helped flush blood through her body.

Now, where do I go from here?

She took a look around this new room and saw that the sandy beach ended almost as soon as she got away from the water. Obviously, the beach was only there to serve the purpose of reinvigorating the person in the maze.

But beyond that, it was back to business.

The maze.

Annja padded out of the sand and paused only to shake some of it from her shoes. Then she put her shoes back on and turned around.

A wide corridor stretched out in front of her. Lights ran along the length of it, illuminating different-shaped stones that paved the floor.

She pulled the sword out again and knelt close to the edge where the stones started. Some of them were shaped like squares, some like rectangles and some triangles.

Annja tapped the point of her sword on one of the square tiles.

And threw herself down as a whisper of air breezed past her head. She heard a splash behind her and knew that whatever trip wire she’d triggered had fired its dart or spear into the water.

Good range, she thought.

She sat back up and tapped the edge of the sword on the triangular tiles. She heard the same punctured sound of air breaking overhead and watched this time as a small dart zipped past her and also landed in the water.

Last time, she thought, and touched the tip of the sword to the rectangle.

Nothing happened.

Annja nodded, stood and set off down the corridor, making sure to keep to the rectangular tiles.

The corridor went on for another fifty feet before ending abruptly. Annja stood on the brink of a pit that stretched fifteen feet before the corridor continued on the other side of it for another fifty feet or so.

The distance was too far to jump, and trying to get a running start would prove difficult relying only on the rectangular stones.

So how would she get across?

And if she did manage to span the gap, she’d have to make sure that she landed on the rectangles on the other side, as well.

Annja shook her head. Damn, Fairclough, you didn’t make this easy, did you?

She glanced overhead, wondering if perhaps he’d left a rope hanging down that she could use to swing across the divide.

No such luck.

She sighed. This was getting tiresome. Annja would have preferred a simpler maze.

Hell, she thought, even facing a minotaur would have been preferable.

She knelt at the lip of the gap and peered into the chasm. The sword cast light only so far, but Annja thought she could see what looked like tips of spears jutting up at an angle, ready to impale those unlucky enough to fail the jump.

Punji sticks, she thought. Just like she’d seen in the jungles of Southeast Asia before.

But there had to be a way across. There had to be. Fairclough wouldn’t have made it impossible.





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